If your life was preordained thats great
But still the element of suprise the mystery
The path you choose to destroy or deviate
I guess their is always a level of uncertanty
If you were to ever meet your soul mate
Was it chance as they just meant to be
That picture in your head that you paint!
But not as you exspexted though really
I ask myself is their such a thing as fate?
Are you responsible for your own destiny
If the future something you could anticipate
Still one always questions the irony!
Written 2017 rewrote few times written this version 2023
Freedom is a bird with broken wings in the modern world, trapped in invisible cages of indifference,
Reflecting destiny as a silent shadow, the immutable aspects of existence embrace us with cold arms,
Death, an artist of limits, carves the boundaries of our lives with the chisel of relentless time,
Each human being becomes a prisoner in their own freedom, building an invisible prison with choices.
We are born free, but the irony of fate makes us builders of walls, raising barriers between dreams and reality,
True freedom is not political, but a delicate dance between choice and the inevitable,
The possibility of self-realization becomes a play of shadows and light, a duel between desires and limits,
How we confront our boundaries becomes the ultimate art, a commitment to destiny in each day lived.
In every choice, a window opens to infinity, but we fear to look beyond the bars of habit,
Destiny calls us to embrace its rigor, to make it part of our daily story,
True freedom is a silent rebellion, an acceptance of the inevitable, yet an exploration of the possible,
In this world of contradictions, we find ourselves, both captive and free, creators and prisoners alike.
You know
The older I get
The more I forget
I watch the youth pass me by
And snicker at their lack of wisdom and sigh
If I could do it all again
Would I still be dumb as I was then?
It’s a shame
That now I know so much
And truly tragic
That I'm so outta touch
A cruel irony of fate
Life is a sick master I rate
It seems so different
Now that I'm old
I wish I could tell them the future
If I may be so bold
There so full throttle
Without a care in the world
As I once was
Into to the pit I was hurled
I cant make them understand
What lies ahead for them
But to be honest
Discovery is quite the gem
Through dangers unknown
The experience’s will be shown
Through the scars they receive
I can only hope
They have knowledge better than I
And navigate smartly
With a well tuned eye
To see path
They need to see
And never lose
How to be free
Eric (and sometimes not)
Amidst wistful notions
to revive his parched heart,
he craves to be ladled with her ardent spirits,
to be cradled... in the tulip of her essence.
Susan Ashley
July 19, 2019
~ Tenth Place ~
An excerpt from: The Irony Of Fate (written July 18, 2018)
Submitted for contest: July 19, 2019
Premiere Contest: Arbitrium Divisa 3
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
Chance favours, chance taunts,
Now is one man’s hour to rise,
But ten men’s dreams it haunts,
Its humor none can surmise.
Heed not the next irony of fate,
Till you and final verdict meet.
I’d sooner wake to destiny late,
Than grovel at Fortune’s feet.
No eye could bear to meet the beggar’s gaze ;
A chasm lay between his world and theirs.
Vicarious, sham empathy might raise
Some paltry coins or hollow, barren prayers.
Whilst mockery would be his daily bread
Smug opulence passed by with callous stride,
Determined to leave every plea unread
And anxious to exult in plenty’s pride.
The affluent adjust their silken ties,
And homes with lavish luxuries adorn,
Whereas the impetus for this wretch lies
In having strength to greet another morn.
The irony of fate had played its part,
For he, like them was once stone cold of heart.
18 word challenge poetry contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
19/08/18
'Tinker,Taylor poetry contest' : sponsored by Julia Ward
15/12/18
2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 16 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Mark Toney
Strand Choice 10,Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest
In a moment of juvenile jealousy
he envies his red rival
with its intimate and greedy embrace of her angels’ share
of honey and vanilla spice
as wet stretchy hands of fervent fabric
possessively cup
her brandied beauty
amidst wistful notions
to revive his parched heart
he craves to be ladled with her ardent spirits
to be cradled in the tulip of her essence -
evaporating every chill from the calyx of her sweetened cordial
warming her in the hearth of his hands
as she melts
like buttery sunbeams
intoxicating the bleached beachy sands..
his dreamy grin falters and his tantric trance fades
as tattered edges of reverie unravel -
a haze beclouds his aged green-eyed gaze
graying his white periwinkle pipe dream
as he sees that his best days are long past
Susan Ashley
July 18, 2018
by singing to you Songs of what "Is"
or by telling you Stories of the "Ought"
you thought
I sowed seeds of Wisdom
to enrich your languishing Soul--
but I tricked you
I sneaked a message
--a Trojan Horse--
that I dumped on your gate
my weapon of the weak
that you pulled in
in the middle of the night
into the fortified citadel of your mind
as if this is by irony of fate--
no escape,
i trick you again--
I'm a Poet!
Words often used to chide a child
Grew deep within his soul
Where, as their taste was never mild,
They took a hefty toll.
They never meant or mattered much
To those who caused him pain,
Yet, full of scorn, they swiftly touched
And made him grieve in vain.
From those few words grew up in him
Misgivings harsh and great
Which filled his life’s cup to the brim
And made him weep with hate.
Throughout his youth and later days
He tried to break the curse
Which cast him into its dark maze
And claimed his universe.
Now old, he may perceive at last
The irony of fate,
Though many tests he had to pass
His heart to liberate.
What might seem harmless at first sight
Can cause a heavy scar
Which throws the soul into the night
And makes it stray afar.
Once time has passed, there’s no return
To childhood’s fleeting days;
Let every soul amain discern
The coarseness of its ways.
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